Keep Holding On
by mebeinme
Summary: Just a little Sam and Dean love.


Keep Holding On

"Sam," Dean spoke softly.

"Hmm?" Sam grumbled. He had started sporting a nice fever complete with headache and nausea earlier that evening while researching and it had only gone downhill from there.

"Time for meds."

"Nah, Dean, I'm okay."

Dean sighed. Of course it was the Winchester thing to say, but for just once, he would like Sam to be five again so Dean could crush up asprin in his applesauce.

Sam rolled over in his tangled mess of blankets to face Dean. A frown formed on Dean's face. Sam hair was matted to his forehead with sweat, but he still shivered under the three blankets Dean had tucked him into.

"Dean."

Dean, pulled from his train of thought, met his brother's gaze.

"Um, could you…" he looked at the empty glass on the nightstand.

"Sure thing, Sammy."

Dean returned and sat down on the corner of the bed, pills and water in hand.

"No, Dean."

"Tough. You have been running on practically no sleep for the past couple weeks and you just need to stay knocked out for a while. So cut the macho man crap." He extended the asprin.

It was then that Dean noticed the wild panic slowly seeping into those hazel eyes. Sam glanced nervously at the medicine in Dean's hand as if it were poison.

"Woah, Sam. Slow you're roll." He handed him the glass of water, watched him warily chug half of it before returning it to him and placed it back on the nightstand along with the medicine.

He sank wearily back into the bed, warding off a violent shiver.

"Okay, what's you're deal?"

Sam opened his mouth to play dumb, but thought better of it. He rolled onto his side and grunted, "I'm fine."

"Suit yourself." Dean got up from the bed and to the bathroom to get cleaned up. He took extra time in the shower, letting the hot water soothe his aching muscles. The last ghost had a thing for throwing his victims down the stairs.

He moved to the sink to brush his teeth when he saw something crawling out of the corner of his eye. Dean smashed the bug with the base of his palm and grimaced at the remains left on his skin.

The motel they were staying in was by far not the worst place they had ever stayed in, but Dean always hated being stuck in a craphole when one of them was sick. It didn't help the whole "healing process".

He washed his hands and finished going through the motions. Dean looked over at his brother's still figure. He listened to Sam's even deep breaths, confirming that he was really asleep and not just trying to fake it.

"I guess you didn't need meds after all, huh?" he said to the quiet room.

Dean crawled in between the clean sheets of his bed and comfortably sank into sleep.

He awoke and instantly knew something was wrong. He grabbed the knife from under his pillow and sat up quickly.

The lamp was on and Sam sat at the far table slowly rocking back and forth in a bundle of blankets in front of his laptop.

"Sammy?" Dean's gruff voice penetrated the silence.

"Gah!" Sam nearly jumped out of his skin. He turned around, and Dean's heart rate picked up speed.

"It's…" Dean glanced at the clock, "four AM. Why are you up?"

"Research. Go back to bed."

"I'm not going anywhere, Sam! Dammit, just tell me what's going on."

At this point Dean had made it across the room to Sam. His stomach dropped as realized how much paler Sam was than only a few hours before.

He put his hand on Sam's forehead, which Sam immediately swatted away. However, he wasn't fast enough.

"Son of a bitch! You're burning up, Sam!" He strode toward the bathroom.

"Dean! I don't need you're freakin' medicine." Dean returned with it anyway. He uncapped the bottle and tried to hand Sam a couple of capsules.

"Dean, I am capable of taking care of myself. I'm not a little kid anymore. I don't need you fretting over every little thing."

"First of all, Sam, I do not _fret_ over anything. Damn you and your girly vocabulary… But I do worry about my sick brother who is being too big of an idiot to see when he needs to pop a few pills. That seems pretty childish to me."

Sam stared at the computer screen without reply.

"Oh so now you're going to pout? That's great. Very grown-up of you."

Dean pulled up a chair next to Sam and sat down in it backwards, arms crossed over the back of it, his I'm-not-leaving-this-alone face in full blast.

"Sam, please tell me what's bothering you. I'm your big brother. I can fix anything if you just let me."

Sam sighed and put his tired head in his hands.

"I used to believe that. You're Dean, you can always save me. But I've had to grow up. I can't run crying to you anymore, because I know you can't fix it and I know it kills you that you can't."

Dean looked at him expectantly, so he continued.

"I have a freakin' Satan in my head. The Devil! And some days it's just so hard to keep him under wraps that I feel like I'm still in the cage, like my flesh is literally melting from my bones. Certain things, ha, stupid things will set me off. I see a pair of tweezers and Satan taunts me and reminds me of how he plucked my eyes from their sockets."

"I know it's hard, Sammy, but you can always talk to me about it. I promise I won't even call it a chick-flick moment if it helps you make it through the day."

"I know Dean."

"So you still see him?"

"Not usually. Mostly nowadays it's just faint memories that I have to push down. But days like today, when my body is so wrecked, it just takes a lot of energy to fight off a virus and Lucifer at once."

"Okay," Dean said, slowly absorbing. "Okay, why no meds?"

"Too cloudy. When I take 'em I can't concentrate on kicking the Devil's ass, so he starts to slither into reality."

"Sam, you know I'll keep you safe."

"But it kills you. And it's not a bucket of sunshine for me either."

"Okay fine, but would you at least get back in bed?"

"Yeah, okay."

Dean sighed. At least that was one battle he one.

"Why were you up anyway?"

Sam leaned heavily on Dean as they made their way to the bed. "I need to wear myself out, so that I'm too tired to dream."

Dean helped set him down on the bed and tucked the blankets back in around Sam.

"Well you're never going to get better if you never sleep. Let me stand guard."

"Haha what?" Sam snorted.

"Oh shut up princess. I'll wake you up if you start having nightmares."

"How can you tell? I'm pretty sure I don't always thrash around screaming."

Dean smiled. "Sam I've been watching you since the day you were born. There's not a thing I don't know about you, kid."

"Wow. Pedifile much?"

"Go to sleep sasquatch."

Sam snuggled deeper into the covers and Dean sat on the bed next to him, turning on the TV. He lay back against the headboard and closed his eyes.

Maybe he couldn't fix Sam. Maybe no one could. He looked down at his little brother, so innocent in sleep.

Dean would do his damndest to try.


End file.
